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"I'm going out to extend the bounds of the empire, strengthen the ties with the mother country, and that sort of thing. It's one of the privileges that seem to be attached to the possession of a temperament like mine." "How will you set about the work?" somebody asked. "With the plow and the land-packer," George broke in. "He'll have the satisfaction of driving them twelve hours a day.
In the foreground, the rows of clods shone with an oily gleam in the fading light. Farther off, the rows converged and melted into a sweep of purple-brown that narrowed as it crossed a distant rise. There were two other belts; one where white grasses broke through the harrow-torn sod, and another flat and smooth where the land-packer had rolled in the seed.
"I heard you were running this place," he said. "That's correct." "Then I put in the wheat on your summer fallow; Mrs. Marston told me to. Thought I'd come along and let you have the bill." His manner was assertively offhand, and George did not ask him to sit down. "It's a very second-rate piece of work," George said. "You might have used the land-packer more than you did." "It's good enough.
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